


Shades of Hell

by JackBivouac



Series: Hell's Rebels [5]
Category: Dungeons & Dragons (Roleplaying Game), Original Work, Pathfinder (Roleplaying Game)
Genre: Alley Sex, Bestiality, Bondage, Chair Bondage, Desk Sex, Dogs, F/M, Fantastic Racism, Forced Orgasm, Gang Rape, Humiliation, Interspecies Sex, Knotting, Loss of Virginity, M/M, Multi, Muteness, Other, Porn With Plot, Prison Sex, Rape, Ritual Sex, Sexual Slavery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-21
Updated: 2019-08-30
Packaged: 2020-07-10 00:21:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 5
Words: 4,598
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19896790
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JackBivouac/pseuds/JackBivouac
Summary: New backstory oneshots deviating/derived from a Hell's Rebels campaign





	1. Hell Is Where the Knot Is

Nox, captain of the lord-mayor’s personal guard, opened the solid metal door of the cell. The young prisoner’s neck and wrists were locked in low, wooden stocks that forced them on their knees. Their naked body was filthy, but that was just how Mephiry liked his bitches.

The hell hound, more lean, lanky wolf than dog, prowled around to the back of the stocks with a low, feral growl. The prisoner’s void black eyes met the captain’s, narrowed in venomous hatred. They spat at her feet.

Nox chuckled darkly. That was all Drei could manage, seeing as she’d cut out the little bitch’s tongue. She watched in smirking satisfaction as Drei’s hateful glare twisted into huffing, tooth-gritting agony.

Mephiry had his forelegs wrapped under his cumdump’s heavy, bouncing tits, straddling them with his hindlegs. His knotted dick brutally prodded his bitch’s well-raped anus until he’d forced his infernally heated knot through their tiny pursed mouth.

Drei grunted and hissed. Their eyes bulged, forsaking all their remaining dignity under pain of their mount’s dominating cock ripping through their anal walls.

The prisoner writhed and jerked in their stocks, but the wood was as unyielding as the hound. Mephiry rammed his dick and knot to the back of Drei’s anus, impaling them to the hilt. His head pounded into their clenched gut.

The prisoner’s mouth burst open in a screaming splatter of drool. Their dark-haired head bobbed helplessly at each wall-splitting thrust. Their triggered anus spasmed and clamped around the beast’s knotted cock in an iron grip.

Seed gushed up their convulsing ass. Mephiry, locked in his bitch until his knot was appeased, continued pounding them right in g-spot.

Drei’s filthy, huddled body wracked with orgasm, rattling the stocks as they quivered under the raping beast. Slick ran from their slutty cunt down the insides of their trembling thighs.

“...look at me when I’m talking to you, whore!” a male voice snapped through the prisoner’s shameful haze.

A powerful hand seized them by the hair and wrenched their semi-conscious face upward. Barzillai Thrune, the new lord-mayor of Kintaro, sneered down at Drei.

Without releasing his painful hold, he unbuckled his belt and shoved his cock into their tongue-cut mouth. His head slammed the back of their throat.

Drei choked back into agonized wakefulness around his dick, eyes prickling with tears. They blinked hard, renewing their glare despite the hard cock tearing their throat to shreds. They refused to cry in front of the monster who’d deposed and killed their mother...or worse.

“...here I thought you’d be happy to hear of Jila Bailu’s survival.”

Drei gasped on their enemy’s dick, the tiniest spark of hope lighting in their watery eyes. Their throat and knotted anus squeezed tight around the cocks stuffing them from either end. Drei’s rigid-quivering orgasm sucked the cum right out of Thrune’s cock.

“That’s better,” smirked the lord-mayor, forcing the prisoner’s mouth down to the base of his shaft until Drei had swallowed every last drop of his seed. “Now listen up, you doubly-fucked whore. If you want your pathetic slut of a mother to remain alive, you’re going to do exactly as I say.”

Thrune pulled his cumdump’s panting mouth off his cock. He could see in their half-open eyes that their consciousness had nearly been fucked out of their slutty body between his dick and the hound continuing to rut their asshole to a fleshy pulp.

“Blink once for yes, twice for no.”

Some final shred of outrage twitched across Drei’s face. In two bestial thrusts it was gone, drowned in the prisoner’s half-whimper, half-moan of shameful, shuddering climax.

Broken in body and mind, Drei surrendered a blink. Then their eyes rolled to the back of their skull, drool seeping from the corners of their panting, squealing mouth.

“Disgusting,” sneered the lord-mayor, shoving the Bailu child’s head from his hand. This dog’s cumdump deserved far worse than their whore-lord of a mother. He would see to Drei’s punishment, personally.


	2. Mood Music

Three members of the Chelish Citizen’s Group, Kintargo’s local chapter of pro-colonizer racists, had a half-aquatic-elf pushed up against an alley wall. They’d bound the twink’s forearms behind his back with his own belt. 

The sea green waves of his hair had all but escaped his bouncing ponytail. Tears streamed from his wine-dark eyes down his bronze cheeks. He would cry out if he thought anyone would listen, but after the morning’s failed protest, he’d accidentally run into a pro-colonizer part of the city.

Now he weeped and whimpered as this bastard’s imperial cock tore up his virgin, elven ass. The grunting, grinning Citizen didn’t hold back, pistoning his half-elven bitch into the alley wall. The other two smirked on either side, fluffing their cocks to the bound elf’s squirming agony.

The Citizen’s cock slammed the thin, flesh wall separating the twink’s ass from his prostate. The half-elf squealed like a skewered pig, writhing under the Citizen crushing him flat to the wall as his anus clenched tight and quivering around his rapist’s dick.

The Citizen groaned and stuck two fingers into the twink’s squealing mouth. Cum burst from his dick, pumping the native elf’s anus full of his seed.

The Citizen pulled out, cum slopping from the twink’s winking anus. Before the next Citizen could tap in, a shadow, long in the late afternoon, fell over the four of them. Only the half-elf, his head forced toward the alley’s dead end, did not turn.

A filthy whore in tattered rags, their face hidden by a tangle of black locks stood at the mouth of the alley. It was the pendant in her dirt-covered hand that stopped the Citizens in their tracks. It bore the sigil of the Imperial House of Thrune, engraved with the pentagram of the King of Hell.

For all their soiled skin and slutty curves, this wench was a Citizen, a high-ranking one as well. The three nodded and took off, leaving their catch to the stranger’s mercy. Which they hoped was none.

Drei, happy to disappoint, quickly dropped their pendant back within their rags and unbuckled the belt around the half-aquatic-elf’s arms. He turned around, wiping his eyes.

“Thank-thank you. You saved me. May I know your name?” he asked, rebuckling his pants.

Drei pulled their tangles to either side of their face. The boy gasped.

“Oh! Oh my gods! You’re the child of Lord-Mayor Jila Bailu! Vanished ex-lord-mayor, anyway.” He gasped again, snapping his fingers. “You must’ve just escaped from Thrune’s torture dungeon, right?”

They simply opened their mouth for an answer, revealing their cut tongue. The half-elf winced.

“Oh, yikes. And...your mother?”

Drei could only shrug and shake their head. Thrune claimed she was alive, but the usurping lord-mayor had every reason in the world to lie. Yet they still found themself carrying the bastard’s sigil in the hopes that he wasn’t.

“...know how you feel,” said the boy. “Before last week’s Night of Ashes, I was a minor noble myself. My mother’s estate was in the half of the city that burned to the ground. Lady Porcia Vitora, did you know her? I’m Rex, by the way.”

Drei pulled out a pencil and a small pad of paper from their pocket. They wrote only two words. The first was their name. The second was “REVENGE.”

Drei didn’t think Rex’s eyes could get any wider. But they did.

“Oh my gods! What a stroke of fortune!” His voice dropped to a hush. “A friend of my mother’s found me after the Night of Ashes. A firebrand of a friend. Apparently, my mother had been secretly running a resistance called the Silver Ravens...all of whom died that night except for that friend.

“Here’s an idea: why don’t you and I start the Silver Ravens back up again? The friend, Lara, their name’s Lara Long, told me about an abandoned slaughterhouse that could work perfectly as a base of operations. What do you say? Er, sorry…”

Drei snorted with a trace of an amused grin. They gave the boy a thumb’s up.

The two deposed nobles hastened out of the alley and made their way toward the older, outer, and less populated side of town. The slaughterhouse, built here when this was naught but farmland, now stood within yelling distance of two other warehouse operations. It was, however, secluded enough for rebel activity.

Drei and Rex entered through a rusty-hinged door. Both winced.

“We’re getting that fixed as soon as the carpenter’s opens,” said Rex between coughs. 

They’d entered a workroom covered in a thick layer of dust. Drei froze not two steps in. Huge, barefoot tracks had trampled all through the dust. They grabbed the half-elf by the back of the arm.

“...won’t be able to decline my bank...what is it?”

A deep bellow from the workroom shadows answered for them. A giant, lumbering ogrekin more beast than sentient being charged forth with rusted cleavers in either hand.

Drei stuck two fingers in their mouth and whistled sharp. A small, slender flute materialized before their eyes.

“I hate to break it to you, my new friend, but I don’t think they’re a music-lover,” said Rex, unsheathing a rapier and stepping into a fencer’s pose.

The ogrekin’s cleavers clanged against the hanging metal chains as they struck them aside. 

Drei rolled their eyes. Nobles were always so elitist. They piped up a simple tune resonant with magic.

The charging ogrekin skidded to a stop through the final curtain of slaughterhouse chains. They lowered their cleavers to their sides, eyes fixed on the magic flute.

“Drei, I-I take it all back,” said Rex. He relaxed out of his stance to rest his hands on his hips. “But now what do we do about the squatter?”

The piper’s eyes flicked from Rex’s to the thin blade still in hand.

“What? No! That just isn’t sporting!”

Drei glowered, piping as obstinately as they could. They had no intention of piping out a full fucking concert while Rex racked his noble brain for a more sporting way to get rid of the ogrekin. Who would definitely eat them given the chance.

Praises to all the non-devil gods, Rex relented before they finished the overture. With a heavy sigh the boy sulked around behind the ogrekin, resumed his fencing stance, then sprang forth, driving the tip of his rapier from the base of their skull and out between the eyes.


	3. The Thing About Cultists

Drei and Rex spent the first three days resting and refurbishing the slaughterhouse into offices and livable space. They kept the large open space of the slaughtering floor, however, as a training space or an easily defensible battlegrounds if it came to that.

Drei had assumed they’d be reliant on Rex’s funds but was surprised to discover that Lord-Mayor Thrune had unfrozen the Bailu bank accounts. As such, they split the construction bill and had more than enough to acquire clothes and tame their hair with a short, sharp cut.

When Drei returned from the city at dusk on the third day, they spotted the storm gray feather of a strix on Rex’s brand new welcome mat. They brought it to the half-elf in the study that he was rapidly converting into a labyrinth of overstuffed bookshelves.

“Ah!” He plucked the feather from between their fingers, holding it up to the fading light. “It’s from Lara! They must mean to visit us tonight. You look awfully spiffy, by the by.”

Drei said nothing, as was their wont.

The two waited for Lara Long, last of the Silver Ravens, in hard-backed chairs on the slaughtering floor. Drei piped up a soft tune on their flute to pass the time. Rex, nodding along, nodded himself right into a snoring doze.

Tap tap. The two jolted to their feet at the knock. Drei kept their flute in hand as Rex opened the door a crack, his own hand on the hilt of his rapier.

“Lara! So glad you could make it!”

“This is a secure location, Vitora,” said the six-foot-tall, muscular strix who walked through the door. “You can call me by my real name.”

“Right, right. Drei, Scarplume. Scarplume, Drei Bailu.”

The winged and feathered humanoid gave Drei a curt nod. “Good to have the true lord-mayor’s child among the Ravens. But we three are not enough for a functional resistance. Your first mission is to gather allies. I have a lead.”

They pulled a metal pendant from their pocket engraved with a rose blooming from a bloody street. It was the holy symbol of Milani, the Everbloom, one of the innumerable banned religions in the devil-worshipping Chelaxian Empire.

“There’s a cult of Milani here in the city. They can serve as our eyes and ears if you can cement an alliance.”

“By all means! And...how do we do that?” asked the half-elf.

Scarplume tossed up the pendant. Drei caught the holy symbol before it touched the ground.

“Keep it here and they’ll come tomorrow night for a ceremony called the Bloodening.”

“Ah, sorry, an induction ceremony? Into their cult of bloody roses?”

“A ceremony of alliance, purely ritual but absolutely necessary for these zealots.”

Drei nodded and sighed in resignation. One could not sustain cult activity under the dire threat and reality of Hellknight persecution without a religious fervor broaching insanity.

#*#*#*#*

Drei and Rex kept the pendant. True to Scarplume’s word, a dozen cultists arrived the following night in robes and veils of rose red trimmed in white. They brought with them two heavy wooden chairs that they placed in the center of the slaughtering floor.

The newest members of the Silver Ravens exchanged a queasy glance. The chairs had thick leather straps on the arms and legs. More ominously, their seat cushions had been removed to create a hole beneath the sitter’s ass.

“Remove your clothes and sit,” said the leader of the veiled cultists. Two black, ribbed horns like that of a gazelle rose from under their hood.

Rex cowered. Drei clenched their jaw and stripped. The half-elf reluctantly joined them.

The two sat naked, side-by-side, in the chairs. Cultists moved to strap their wrists and ankles to the arms and legs. Drei gave the bonds a cursory tug. There was no give beneath the tight straps.

Without warning, the cultists kicked the chairs onto their backs with a heavy thud, slamming Drei and Rex against the wood. The piper grunted from the full-body smack, the half-elf yelping behind them.

The leader raised their arms on high. “Flock of the Silver Raven, by the divine will of Milani, we bind our holy services to you in the blood of the rose that our hearts be true and our loyalties never falter.”

The first four of the cultists shed their robes but not the veils around their faces. The two with cunts walked around to sit on Drei and Rex’s helpless faces, grinding their pussies into their mouths.

The two with cocks squatted between the legs of the chair. They shoved their dicks into Drei and Rex’s exposed assholes. The two jerked in their bonds, grunting into the cunts gagging their mouths. The straps held them completely restrained to the hard wood of the chair.

The Silver Ravens were forced to take every wall-ripping thrust up their clenched assholes. When the cultists came into their raped holes and mouths, the next four took their place in cycles.

Drei, sweaty and battered black and blue from the thrusts pounding their body into the upturned chair, realized in horror that the rapes of the Bloodening would continue until the cultists had drawn blood from either of their brutally ravaged holes.

The shock left them wholly unprepared for the horned cult leader’s penetration. The leader drove their cock to hilt in their swollen, sensitized asshole, their head slamming against the base of Drei’s gut.

Drei screamed into their gagging pussy as the split shaft of their anus exploded into lances of pure, white hot rut. Their eyes rolled to the back of their skull, back arching against the hard wood of their restraining chair. Their arms and legs jerked against their straps as the leader beat spasm after spasm into their squeezing anus.

The leader’s seed gushed into their sloppy, well-ravaged ass. When they pulled out, cum tinted pink oozed from Drei’s raped asshole.

The leader leaned their veiled face over the semi-conscious human, folding two brick brown arms over their trembling knees. “Rest easy, child, for we are now one.”

Rex, unfortunately, was not so lucky. The cultists continued to dump their cum into his surprisingly hardy fuckholes well after he had passed out but just before the red of dawn.


	4. Lies from on High

Drei and Rex had only two days to mend before Scarplume came to call once more at midnight with a new mission.

“We have informants. What we need now are more agents to help us act on the cult’s tips. I learned of one potential group, a band of mercenaries six-strong being held in a foreclosed museum.”

“Not Hocum’s Fantasmagorium!” said Rex, the name meaning nothing to Drei.

Scarplume gave a single nod.

The half-elf clapped his hands on either side of his face. “Nooo! I used to love to go there as a boy. Foreclosed, gods damn it, how much would it cost to reopen it?”

“Considering the property’s fallen into the hands of the Asmodean church, a price not even your soul could afford.”

Drei pulled out their pencil and pad at that, scrawling, “Why are the mercenaries being held by the church?”

The strix shook their head. “They’re not. The museum’s on loan to the Chelish Citizen’s Group.”

That made more sense. The church had Hellknights to rout its enemies. Street-level racist colonizers had the CCG.

“What a tragedy. The Fantasmagorium used to be a place of joy, of-of love and wonder.”

Drei clapped a hand on Rex’s despondent shoulder. His wine-dark eyes met theirs.

“Oh, Drei. You’re right. That perfect place of childhood happiness will always be safe inside my mind. Such a wise friend you are.”

The piper remained silent, having meant nothing of the sort with their simple hand-clap. It made Rex feel well enough to accept the mission, however, so they took it.

#*#*#*#*

Hocum’s foreclosed Fantasmagorium had seen better days. Every window in the sprawling, single-story building had been boarded up if not also broken. Sun-faded, rain-rotted signs still advertised discounted rates and incredible exhibits within. 

Drei heard a distinctly teary sniffle behind their back as they fiddled with the large lock hanging from the front door. It swung open with a screak of rusty protest.

Macabre taxidermy and menacing skeletons lined the walls of its circular entrance hall. A broken fresco of terrifying grotesqueries stared down from the domed ceiling overhead. 

“Huh,” said the half-elf. “Now that I’m here, I’m actually recalling things quite differently. It seems my grandparents used to take me here to scare me into good behaviour. On threat of leaving me overnight with the, uh…”

His eyes flicked from the taxidermy to Drei. His wavering smile grew to a painful, twitching stretch of clenched teeth. “L-let’s m-make haste, sh-shall we?”

Rex’s jitteriness proved contagious. A loud crash sent Drei and Rex both jumping out of their skin. The piper shook it off first, following the sound to a gallery of wax.

Wax replicas of royalty, folk heroes, deities, and creatures filled the cavernous hall, some laughably fake and others uncannily lifelike. Like the one at the turn of the doorway which Drei very nearly impaled themself upon.

The wax man was dressed in bloodstained professor’s robes, wielding a bloody surgeon’s knife in one hand. The plaque on its pedestal was inscribed: “Professor Mangvhune, Temple Hill Slasher.”

Drei removed the knife from its possession. It was a blunt toy, but Rex, following in their footsteps, could easily make their same mistake at twice the volume. Display walls that did not reach the studio ceiling were now the only thing separating them from the flickering lanterns and the distorted talk, laughter, and grunts from beyond.

The piper peeked around the corner of the last concealing wall. A group of half-naked CCG along with a single cleric wearing armor inscribed with the red and black pentagram of the God-Fiend had converted this part of the gallery into a slave-pen.

Soiled, stinking straw lined the floor of six cages, three against opposite walls. They were separated by wax and taxidermied figures lying facedown to serve as benches for the CCG or troughs for the captives.

Perhaps they had been enslaved too long, but the strix in each of the cages were either too soft or too scrawny to be anyone’s choice of mercenary. Their wrists were shackled over their heads to the bars of the top of the cage, which were just high enough to force them onto the tips of their taloned feet. Their scaled and feathered ankles were cuffed to the bars on either side of the cage, leaving their legs spread.

Three such cages were open. Members of the CCG, standing on crates for leverage, groped the hips of a strix each, pistoning their cocks into feathered pussy or tailed anus. They were cheered on by their buddies who pumped their waiting cocks.

The three strix in the closed cages were already spent, thick gobs of cum clumping together the feathers inside their legs. Their heads were bowed, eyes closed and tear-stained.

“Monsters!” Rex hissed by Drei’s shoulder.

The piper’s jaw clenched in agreement. They set their pipe to their lips and stepped out from the shadows with a rustling, enchanting tune.

Every head in the room turned to stare at the piper, blinding them from the rapier-wielding noble who snuck behind the cleric. With that armor, however, the cleric fell with a clash loud enough to jolt everyone from Drei’s trance.

But the piper was ready. In a change of keys, their tune went from bewitching to conjuring. A swarm of spiders seethed up through the ground underfoot of the half-naked CCG. The rapists ran, screaming and batting the writhing carpet of spiders from their legs. Drei sent the swarm scuttling after them.

As soon as the swarm cleared, Rex dug through the cleric’s pockets for the key and began freeing the non-mercenary strix. They were too weak even to spread their wings.

“We have to take them back to base,” said the half-elf supporting a rescuee on both shoulders.

Drei nodded in agreement, helping to prop up two more strix on theirs. They could return to safety first, then demand the truth from Scarplume.


	5. The Road to Hells

Drei prepared a single, pressing question for Scarplume when the strix inevitably arrived before dawn to pick up the rescued sex slaves: "What the fuck was this mission?"

Rex stepped gingerly between Scarplume and Drei's accusatory paper. "That is to say, we would've been happy to rescue captives of the CCG, so why the...subterfuge?"

Drei flipped the page over and held up a new scrawl over the half-elf's shoulder. "You lied."

"I did," the strix admitted soberly, "because I wasn't sure that I could trust you. This was partially a test, and you've earned my full trust for it. I will never lie to you again. If you'll hear me out, I'll explain everything."

Rex looked from Scarplume to Drei. The piper's frown remained cemented on their face, but they gave a stiff nod.

"Thank you. I come from the Kitska Clan in the Ravounel Forest. The strix you rescued are fellow clan members. They're not mercenaries, but they came to the city to make a better life for themselves, as did I.

"But as long as Thrune's in power and supporting the CCG, we'll never be more than second-class citizens. Unfortunately, it's too dangerous for any of my clan to get involved with the Silver Ravens. My only goal was to get them the Hells out of Kintargo. Thanks to your efforts, I can."

"So...were you ever really intending to start up the Silver Ravens again?" asked Rex.

"Not at first. But I've seen what you can do, and we've even managed to lay a basework for intel. If you'll have me, I'll gladly stay on as an advisor. I can't in good conscience remain leader, however."

"Drei, what do you think?"

They gave Scarplume a long, hard stare. Yes, the strix had played them, but not without good reason. Truth be told, Scarplume wasn't even the least trustworthy of the Ravens.

Drei put their pencil to paper once more. "You can stay."

#*#*#*#*

There was a knock at noon the next day. Nox opened the door of Lord-Mayor Thrune’s office. She grabbed the report out of Drei’s hands.

“Get in here,” the captain snapped.

Drei stepped in under the piercing gaze of both her and the lord-mayor behind the desk, his fingers steepled before him.

“Nox, read me the report,” said Thrune, rising from his seat. “Drei, come here.”

The piper froze, their blood turned to ice in their veins.

“You deaf AND mute?” growled Nox, shoving Drei’s back. “Go!”

They stumbled forward. Thrune’s arm snapped out. He grabbed Drei by the collar of their shirt and threw them down against the desk. The side of Drei’s face smacked against the hardwood. Stunned, the world blurred around them.

Thrune wrenched Drei’s arms behind their back before they could move and belted them tight, forearm to forearm. One hand seized around their neck. The other yanked down their pants.

Drei could only gurgle in shock at the violent shove of hot, hard dick into their asshole. They jerked and thrashed instinctively under Thrune, but the lord-mayor only shoved deeper, harder into their fear-clenched anus, tearing their walls apart with animal ferocity.

Drei clenched their teeth against the cries of pain rising in their constricted throat. But they could not stop the flow of burning tears and snot as Thrune pounded them into the hard wood of his desk, grinding their cunt into its stiff edge.

Nox laughed at their pathetic humiliation, reading the words of their own report over the grunts, slams, and squelches of their rape. Her malicious joy spurred her boss to greater force and penetration.

Thrune crushed Drei’s neck to the flat of the desk. He switched from Drei’s ruined anus to their pussy. His dick pistoned to the mouth of their womb, ramming their defenseless cervix with every thrust. Under his relentless rape, his cock slammed straight into their g-spot.

The piper let out a high-pitched nasal squeal. Their traitorous pussy closed vise-tight around the lord-mayor’s cock, begging for seed. 

Thrune’s mouth spread into a sinister smirk over his convulsed bitch, their hips bucking into his against their will. Desperate, needy, shamefully so. A magnanimous ruler like himself could hardly ignore such a pathetic plea.

The lord-mayor gave his bitch’s cunt a final, wall-ripping pound and groaned. Seed exploded from his head into their spasming pussy, pouring into their helpless womb. Drei sobbed under him, but their body shuddered and continued to shake in waves of forced orgasm.

He pulled out of the double agent, leaving them slumped over his desk, his cum oozing down their inner thighs. Nox, finished with the reading, tossed the papers onto Drei’s back. They fluttered with Drei’s ragged breath.

“So the Silver Ravens were nothing but a ruse. Still, they could prove useful should you turn them toward true rebellious activity. Stay with them for now and continue with the reports.”

Drei nodded weakly, rustling the papers plastered to their sweat-soaked face and hair. They had to. Their mother's life was depending on it.


End file.
